


before you go

by zebraweb



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, a bard being a tease, first kiss finally, pining and more pining, so much jealousy, some accidental voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:48:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22185115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zebraweb/pseuds/zebraweb
Summary: Jealousy doesn't look good on Geralt and arguments lead to something more.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 45
Kudos: 682





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> such chaotic bisexuals :-: enjoy!!
> 
> title based lewis capaldi's song before you go.

"Have you had dinner yet?" Jaskier leaned in close- _too close_ for comfort, peering into Geralt's face, inquisitive, soft and oddly concerned. A banquet was held on behalf of one of the nobles Jaskier often pranced around; an engagement or arranged marriage of sorts. All Geralt really knew was that there would be free alcohol flowing the entire night and _really_ , was there any legitimate reason to turn that down?

Raising his tankard in conjunction with his eyebrow... this apparently wasn't the correct answer and Jaskier aimlessly swatted at his hands.

"A _proper_ dinner, Geralt. You do know ale isn't an appropriate meal, despite how much you drink?" Jaskier clicked his fingers at the waiter who would _now, definitely_ spit in his food and ordered a meal on Geralt's behalf. Meat, potatoes, and for free... he supposed he couldn't really argue with that. 

Royals, lords, nobles, all of the entitled, narcissistic people Geralt tended to avoid were here; dancing with long dresses swishing and medals glistening under the chandeliers' glow. A goregous hall was laid out, lilies in delicate vases, tables upon tables of fresh food and jugs of alcohol. It was Jaskier's idea of heaven- a pig in shit, wallowing in the glory and attention his songs brought. 

Geralt simply attended to unwind. At least as much as he could, of course. There were certain knots no amount of alcohol, sex or good food would remove. A lifetime on edge tended to do that. Slurping on his ale, he drained it and felt the heat hit his stomach comfortably.

" _Come on_ , Geralt." Jaskier had held his wrists lightly, more than a little tipsy himself on the attention and the rich, red wine soaking his tongue. " _Dance with me_."

"I don't dance, Jaskier." Geralt grunted and it wasn't an _I don't dance with you_ , as Jaskier continued to persist, tugging at Geralt's dress shirt until he grew bored and fell into the waves of the crowd, swallowing him up gracefully and the hands of a tall man picked him up with ease. The fellow was bulky, muscles that looked more for appearances than use, hair long and pulled back in a lazy, dark, brown ponytail.

Food was placed in front of him, hot, steaming and warm but Geralt lost his appetite as soon as he watched the man grasp at Jaskier's hands, leading him into a smooth, slow-danced ballad. Horrendous hands placed on his hips, selfishly winding Jaskier's arms around his own neck, whispering likely _disgusting_ things into his ear. Stomach turning, worms crawled through Geralt's stomach, shivering into his veins and sending pulses of hot and cold into his veins.

_Bastard_.

A fresh tankard entered his hand and he drained it almost on impact, _again and again_ until he nearly forgot about the repulsive, grotesque man with his hands all over Jaskier. Almost of course, although, _why was it any of his concern_? Jaskier was an adult despite appearances, he could make his own- albeit _stupid_ \- decisions. A man like that- A slimy scoundrel. Geralt shook his head and decided to move to something stronger. Ale was not nearly enough to quell his rather peculiar thoughts.

A beautiful woman slid towards him, long chestnut hair curling around her- _he couldn't help but look_ \- shapely breasts and the curves of her hips _more goregous than the mountains of Skellige_. A woman most men would lust after like starving, repulsive pigs. A scent of mint, fresh and unfamiliar caught at his nose almost suddenly.

"Would you like to share a drink?" She leaned in close and it was apparent she was interested in something much more than an innocent drink. Vibrant eyes flickered across his body- hungry with pupils dilating.

A scan around the perimeter made the decision for him and he took her lips in his own. Plump and soft, he dipped his tongue inside her mouth even as his head screamed protests. It felt vicious. It felt selfish in new kinds of ways. Using someone for an ulterior motive. Pushing her away, he gasped and his eyes burned black for a moment before she screamed and he _fled_.

Roach was quiet in the stables. Disappointed in him and disgusted. Wind rattled against the hut, curling clusters of rain to spit against the windows. Geralt hung his head and whispered silent apologies into her mane. Even sugar cubes didn't seem to sweeten her and he left her to brood as he trudged upstairs, the copious amounts of alcohol making his head swim.

Sharing a room had seemed appropriate at the time but upon swinging the door open lazily, limbs heavy and more than a little intoxicated, Geralt rapidly realised their mistake.

A rather _naked_ bard was laid sprawled out among plush, velvet pillows, delicate hands pinned above his head and it was Geralt's first instinct to whip out his sword- steel, as the attacker was biting dark bruises into the bard's neck and thrusting into him. Dark, long hair- the man from _before_ , face hidden between Jaskier's neck and the bard was flushed red, lust-filled and keening sweetly.

Sword rattling with a clunk between rushed breaths, Geralt's brain short-circuited dumbly. Jaskier's face was glowing and eyes shut in pleasure and upon opening them, he made eye contact with Geralt and came... _hard_.

Static, pure _static_ filled Geralt's brain. He was used to dealing with adrenaline-fueled battles; of making split-second, life-or-death decisions, of being a hair's width away from death at all times, but _God_ , his head was spinning so fast he thought he was going to throw up the meager contents of his stomach.

Thankfully, his legs acted on instinct and led him back to the bar where his hands were filled eagerly with alcohol until his brain grew fuzzy.

Morning greeted him with a dry mouth and a pounding headache. God, he must of drank a lot that even _he_ had a hangover. It seemed he had fallen asleep hunched over a sticky table in the corner, likely the bar staff had been too afraid to awaken him and it was for once he was thankful for his intimidating appearance. 

Intrusive images flooded his brain. Jaskier. Spawled out under the hands of a man. The look on his face as he-

Geralt reclaimed his half-empty tankard from the hours before and finished it off, despite the disgusted looks from the nobles across from him. Early morning light had begun to trickle into the polished windows, the light of a new day and Geralt couldn't quite make sense of the turning, sickening feeling in his stomach. It wasn't the first time he had walked in on Jaskier engaged in activities- however, it was usually with a _woman_. Why it made any sort of difference, Geralt couldn't quite understand.

Jaskier trudged towards him during the early afternoon, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. A meek grin pursed upon reddened lips.

"Starting a bit early, eh Geralt?" He flopped down beside him, tutting at the now filled beer and wrinkling his nose up at the witcher's apparently _awful_ smell before fixating those blue eyes into the corner of Geralt's gaze. It was easy to ignore him. White noise. The buzz of a fan. The birds chirping from branch to branch. 

"You didn't come to bed last night," Jaskier said and it wasn't exactly carefully, but it was something close. A tiptoe of a thing. "I kept the candles burning until late."

"Hm." Geralt ignored the press, the itch on his skin- maggots suckling at the sweet, oily blood there and sending his senses wild. Candles burning _late_. Had they really had the strength for a second round? Jaskier had looked positively exhausted upon Geralt's ill-timed arrival, how on Earth had he gotten the strength to go _again_? More than likely that lust-starved cretin he had been with had _insisted_. Allowed the bard to rest for mere moments before working him up into a frenzy once more, fingers and tongues and sweet caresses-

Geralt tipped back his tankard with a concrete frown. _What was wrong with him_?

Jaskier took it upon himself to dig into Geralt's untouched breakfast, lips wrapping round the fork hungirly and it took copious amounts of willpower for the witcher to drag his thoughts someplace else. Perhaps, he had been cursed in the night, enchanted by some strange sort of spell. It would make more sense than these ridiculous thoughts.

Several, hungry bites later, Jaskier placed his fork down with a clatter and frowned up at him. "I hate to ask this, but- is it possible you are.... sulking, Geralt? More so than usual I mean. Not your normal, brooding, crotchety face. This seems more-"

"No." Geralt shut him up with a snarl. 

It didn't seem to stop Jaskier's onslaught of a verbal avalanche, merely slowing him down for a milisecond. "If this is about last night-" he gushed and the words drew the hairs on Geralt's body to stand to attention. _Last night_. Stomach contents turning, he screwed up his eyes.

"It's not." 

"It's just I can't help but notice you're looking positively furious with me- and, you know I'm sorry I took him back to our room. I know you were likely exhausted and ready for sleep, but I really didn't think it would take too long-"

"-Jaskier."

"-A mere fumble in the sheets was all I expected, but things took a turn and well-"

" _Jaskier_." Geralt raised his voice, venom and anger leaking viciously into the words, poison seeping between each syllable and finally, he succeeded in shutting up the incessant bard.

Jaskier paused for a moment, lips flailing with unspoken words before his eyes narrowed darkly. A flush was alight on his cheekbones but whether that was from embarrassment or anger, it was hard to tell.

"I didn't take you to be such a _prude_ , Geralt." Jaskier spat, leaning in, tone harsh and it probably looked very silly from afar. A small, weak bard squaring up to the larger witcher, no fear whatsoever. "There is nothing wrong if I want to have sex with men. It is none of your concern."

Geralt gritted his teeth and wished desperately for a refill of ale. "I don't _care_ where you stick your sausage- or rather where people stick _theirs_ ," he snarled, voice lowered and he let out an ugly chuckle at the spark of shock on Jaskier's face. "I just thought you would have better taste than someone _like that_."

"Like _what_?" Jaskier found it difficult to keep his voice lowered, resisting the urge to be shrill and hysterical. However, airing his dirty laundry to the open banquet hall was likely to be frowned upon. "Like a _man_? Is that why you've got your panties in such a twist? You're so backwards in your ways that it _disgusts_ you to see men lie with men."

"I don't _care_ what idiots you bed, Jaskier. Just keep it out from under my nose." Geralt snarled and slammed his palm onto the table hard. It rattled and the glasses shook against eachother, attracting unwanted attention from the tables nearby and succeeded in making Jaskier shut his big mouth. Only the bard could rile him in such a way. Get under his skin like the disgusting leech he was.

Jaskier straightened out his trousers with the flat of his palms, red-faced and pushing whatever bubbling emotions he had down. "If you want me to go, I can go. If you are going to continue to behave like a barbarian, it would make no sense for us to continue our travels together."

Geralt grabbed onto his words like a hungry wolf, teeth bared and a spiteful smirk on his face. "If I thought you bedding a man would be all it took to get rid of you, I would have offered myself up _years_ ago."

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.

Cogwheels turned rapidly behind Jaskier's eyes and his eyes flashed blue for a moment. It was like watching him fumble with a blank jigsaw puzzle but somewhere he found the answer he was looking for. 

"You're... jealous... aren't you?" A devious little smile began to crawl out of the ditches onto Jaskier's face and he looked like the cat who got the cream. Impossibly smug and supercilicous. An expression that send boiling fire into Geralt's veins.

Fumbling with his words was something he never did, but out came tumbles of nonsense nonetheless. "Of course I am not jealous, you narcissistic fool. I am more jealous of the dead roadkill, decomposing under the sun than I ever would be of-" 

"You little _voyeur_." Jaskier tutted with an ever-stretching grin. "Here I was thinking you were feeling prudish, little did I know your secret, eh, my dear witcher?" Although it took an awful lot to make Geralt embarrased, the low, soft lull of Jaskier's voice was enough to send heat to his face and apparently the bard had uncovered something he hadn't even realised himself. _Of course he wasn't jealous. Surely not_.

"My, my, my. If I had have known I would have invited you to join us." Jaskier teased, leaning in close and the hot ghost of his breath sent shivers up Geralt's spine and an humiliating rush of heat downwards.

"Would you _shut up_ , Jaskier!" Geralt hissed and it drew the attention of several onlookers. Unfortunately, heat pooled into his face once more and if he was going to be struck down by some force from above, _now_ would be a wonderful time to do so. Taking pity on the obviously emotionally- and Jaskier noted, sexually- stunted witcher, he let up and stopped his ceaseless taunting. It was obvious, being an artist- in touch with feelings and all, he would uncover something the witcher had likely buried deep.

Waving his hands, a white flag, he softened. "I'm finished. I'm sorry. I'm only teasing, Geralt." Jaskier placed his hand firmly on the witcher's wrist and rubbed a small circle on the bone. "There is nothing wrong if you wish to bed men, you know? I imagine there wasn't a great deal of sexual education in your witcher school, but in most developed parts of the continent it isn't an enitrely foreign phenomenon."

" _Jaskier_." Geralt hissed again, drawing his hand back as though branded by iron and this was neither the time nor the place for such dicussions. Although, he hoped neither of which ever came.

Stomping out of the hall, Geralt took great pleasure in slamming the expensive doors behind him, despite the unwanted attention it brought and he ultimately found himself in the stables, Roach looking up curiously. "I know what you're thinking," he groaned and set about preparing her for the journey ahead. It would be better to leave now, abandon his own personal scourge and reclaim his life, freedom and most importantly, his silence. Jaskier would fume and fuss for a year or two but it was certainly better this way.

Naturally, Geralt had no such luck and the stable doors swung open with a rush of cold air and bright sunshine. Waltzing in a flurry of royal blue and long limbs. Jaskier cornered him, a softer expression on his face and Geralt couldn't quite understand why _he_ was being treated like a frightened animal. For heaven's sake- he was a _witcher_ , not some snot-nosed, virginal teenager.

"I'm not here to argue with you." Jaskier rolled his eyes, big, blue and glistening mischievously. "Nor _talk- the gall of me_ , before you get yourself all worked up. We don't have to speak about this ever again, if that's what you so desire."

Geralt scoffed, fists tightening and Roach neighed warningly. "Nothing to _talk about_ , Jaskier. Just your silly, nonsensical fabrications, fodder for your ludicrous fables." Aiming for the chest, apparently Jaskier was more thick-skinned than he was often given credit for and he laughed the comment away.

"All of my _fables_ , if you will, contain an element of truth. However, I'm not going to sing about this- a tale much too risque for the general ears." Shit-eating grin spreading across his face, he seemed truly enthralled with winding-up the witcher, as though it couldn't result in him simply having his head sliced right off. A tempting thought on manys of days. "You shouldn't look so grumpy, Geralt. I'm not going to tell anyone. Believe it or not, I don't care for where you stick your sausage _either_ , or where others stick-"

" _Quiet_!" Geralt snapped and grabbed him by the cuff of his ostentatious shirt collar, their faces a hair's width apart. Geralt didn't know when he started breathing so heavy but it was the only sound in the quiet stables. _Fuck_ , his head was spinning. Jaskier. Jaskier. Jaskier. A horrible tune he couldn't shake. _God_ , all he wanted was to shut him up for good. Anything it took. Face hot, burning and Jaskier gazing up at him, distinct lack of fear, simply lax and waiting in his fists. Instinct must have took over at some stage and his hands moved up to grab roughly at the irritating bard's cheeks, hands grazing the light stubble there and crushed their mouths together before rational could kick in.

Perhaps, it was the alcohol. Perhaps, it was the anger. Perhaps, it was weeks of pent-up sexual frustration. It was like he was a man possessed- kissing _Jaskier, of all people_. It didn't seem to matter as the bard responded with surprising enthusiasm and thrust hands into Geralt's far-too-tangled hair and yanked it as he dipped his tongue in deep, mouths melting together in a rhythm led by the bard.

"You make me so angry." Geralt hissed between kisses, biting just hard enough on Jaskier's bottom lip not to draw blood, but bruise nonetheless and the bard gasped, tugging the handful of hair he had clasped harder, eliciting a sweet groan from Geralt, despite himself.

Roach looked positively perplexed at the strange humans- not quite knowing if they were engaged in a brawl or not. They ignored her neighs and she stomped off.

Despite their difference in size, Jaskier led the kiss, slowing them down to cup Geralt's face, light-headed and catching his breath. "Why didn't you tell me?" Jaskier pressed soft kisses to the nape of the exposed neck, smiling to himself at the appreciate gasps and the way such a strong, large man bucked helplessly into him. Of course, Jaskier had plenty of experience with both men and women. It was his hobby after all. He just hadn't expected Geralt to be quite so... docile.

"I could have helped you, you know? All these years of restricting yourself to only one sex. I could have taught you more." Jaskier's soft muttering, gentle little teases was more than enough to rile Geralt in a mixture of anger, embarrassment and pure lust. An awful, messy mix of emotions. "Perhaps, you want me to stop speaking _now_?" Jaskier smirked, eyes dilating darkly and he could _feel_ the reaction his words were having. "You are probably so tense, so needy. Did you enjoy watching my little performance last night? Shame you didn't stick around for the second round." Jaskier moved his hands low, fingertips caressing his chest, his belly, stopping just above his belt.

All of the blood had left Geralt's head and he felt dizzy with lust, confusion and adrenaline. A sore need. Chasing Jaskier's lips proved fruitless. The bard was smirking, a bizarre swap of roles that had him firmly in charge and it provoked him even more.

"Now is not the time, my dear." Jaskier placed a chaste kiss on his lips and pulled back, drawing an uncharacteristic keen from the witcher and he belatedly flinched at the pet name. God, this was a worse decision than Yennefer. Straightening down his clothes, the bard drew further space between them and made his way for the doors.

"I must return for my afternoon show. Until later then, Geralt."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after all the lovely comments i had to write another chapter! enjoy!!

As the doors to the stables rattled behind the devious bard, Geralt froze up as cold air suddenly brushed his feverish skin. Head plunged into an ice-cold lake, his so-called heightened senses trickled back into his oxygen-starved brain. Mages, sorcerers, even spells of the mind rarely gave him such an intrinsic reaction. Such a perplexing reaction- _it was only Jaskier, for crying out loud._ He was the pain in his side, the barrage of nonsense that couldn't be shaken from his thoughts. Fair enough, he was an attractive boy. But he was so _young_ \- and he was _Jaskier_ , if that hadn't already been stated.

It was obvious he just needed to get laid. Simple as, Jaskier was in touch with these sorts of things and it had likely been obvious in his more-so-than-usual irritation. But, he couldn't say the bard hadn't been a good kisser; experienced, soft and hard at once, dominating in an unforeseen turn of events. For fucks sake, even the thought of it was riling him all up again. Willing his body to settle he patted assurances into Roach's flank- she ignored him, and he stormed up to his room to release the tension himself.

Jaskier was changed for the performance, a positively sultry outfit. Dark reds and blacks, lips coated in the ghost of a red lipstick and his voice echoed across the vast hall in a melodious serenade. Attention clung desperately to him, sugar-sweet and crystallising among the coves of the room. A more raunchy crowd was out this afternoon and they ate up his words, singing along with his tantalising tunes. 

Geralt tried to remain inconspicuous, attempting to slink into the banquet hall, nurse his ale, eye up some beautiful women and ignore the bard with his glittering eyes and painted lips. An impossible feat, of course and as their gaze ultimately fell upon one another, Jaskier raised an eyebrow provocatively. Tightening a hand around his tankard, a flush of rage lit within Geralt and he caught the attention of a boisterous lady, raising her skirts as she danced and he drew her to him one gentle word at a time.

It was petty. It was beneath him. A childish action that achieved the desired effect and during the intermission the bard strode to him with a positively devious simper, lipstick beginning to smudge at the edges and Geralt stared.

"Is it possible, my dear witcher, that you are intentionally trying to provoke me?" Jaskier leant in close to his ear, ghost of a breath sending muscle memories of touch down his spine and he fell pliant. "Because you are doing a terrible job at it." A hand slid to rest on Geralt's cheek, sliding its way down to press on his shoulder. Scorching heat fried the cells along their path and Geralt felt immediately entrapped, willing his body to behave as his face remained stoic.

"I am simply returning the favour." Geralt grunted and the bard let out a musical chuckle. A smug little thing. Perching himself on the table, Jaskier swung his legs laziliy.

"Oh, is that so?" Jaskier tugged at the plain collar, far too tight against Geralt's sweaty neck and the miniscule action sent a rush of heat southwards. "Were you really so impatient you couldn't wait?"

Throat going impossibly dry, Geralt swallowed. "No." 

Was he bedevilled by a curse of sorts?Intoxicated by poisons that leeched onto his good senses, his rational, leaving him submissive under the bard's hungry gaze. It was a role reversal of sorts, but he supposed when the notion of sex was hovering over them, wafting within reach- anything could transpire.

Moving his hand from the collar, lowering its way down Geralt's front with little regard for raising too much suspicion, Jaskier had a impish spark in his eyes. "Your little realisation has intrigued me so, my dear. A wonderous muse that I can't wait to sing about. I'm sure this lovely crowd would adore to know-"

"Jaskier." Geralt groaned. In fairness, he knew the bard was lying to rile him up, the obvious, humilating rush of blood heating his face and making him grow impossibly hard. _Why was he behaving like this_? Had his rushed and messy jerk off before not been enough to quell these puzzling responses. Perhaps his body was glitching, firing off signals into all of the wrong nerves. A belated effect to the muations. Perhaps he needed a healer.

Jaskier grinned, predatory with a lip caught between his teeth. "You are fun to tease, Geralt." Feigned childlike innocence, long, fluttering eyelashes and a smirk that made Geralt want to punch him in the throat. The mixture of anger and lust reminded him of Yennefer and that in itself was a big, red flag.

Flouncing away in a spring of light steps, the bard made his way back up to reclaim his growing crowd and they welcomed him with joy; a beacon in a sea of poverty, misery and pain, the fantasy of it all wrapping them up in a happy bubble.

Geralt gulped down pint upon pint of ale upstairs in their room, embers burning low in the fire and the ruckus from downstairs but a low lull. Strums of lute began to taper off and he stretched from his uncomfortable position perched on the edge of the window. Damned bard, a curse, a nuisance, yet Geralt's slow heart was quickening as steps sounded musically towards the door. _Shut it, lock the door and kick his ass out into the street_.

"There you are!" Jaskier was grinning like a pig in shit, goblet of a rich wine sloshing in his hands and lute slung over his shoulder. Geralt tried to avoid his gaze- to little avail. "I've been looking for you, sad lump you are- sat up here all on your lonesome."

"Quite happily so." Geralt snapped back and it was that intoxicating smell Jaskier brought in with him that got him- thick liquor, musk of a cheap perfume and the ever-familiar smell that was just the bard, clogging up his nose and his throat, senses skewed. 

"Oh you say that, but don't pretend you aren't happy for my company." Jaskier rolled his eyes with a impish smile and without the thrill of a crowd and the rush of attention he was more like himself. Less an entertainer and more a simple man. Strolling towards the witcher, light from the taverns across the street casting mellow, salmon light across his face, his lipstick was askew and more coating his goblet than face. "I never wanted to make you uncomfortable, Geralt," he said and it was honest, open and all of the things Geralt envied.

"You could have anyone you want, any man you want- I would understand if you want to forget this ever happened." Jaskier told him with a sincerity that juxtaposed his earlier confidence, a flicker of vulnerability that often jutted out of his polished mask. 

Geralt rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I don't want _any man_." It was true. In the past he'd had inclinations about men- that wasn't the confusing part of this. It was _Jaskier_. Another limb, stuck begrudgingly to his hip, a familiar, constant state in his ever-changing, ever-wandering life. If he fucked _that_ up, he would just be another vagabond.

"I don't understand, Geralt." Jaskier said carefully, edging towards him with taut brows. _You aren't the only one_. It was a terrible idea. One of the worst Geralt had entertained, but electricity was sparking in his veins, heat bubbling in his stomach, sensations foreign in a body once so still, so cold. Grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, Geralt pulled their mouths together in a kiss that sent heartbeats wild, melting into a intoxicating rhythm and he chased the sweet taste of wine, of a tongue sliding beside his own, of hands, soft and warm placed on his hips. _Sweet God_.

"I _still_ don't understand," Jaskier huffed out a breath, small smirk and lipstick nowhere to be seen, eyes diamonds in his skull. Geralt rolled his eyes and drew him back, lips fitting so well together, wet, warm and Geralt felt a hand in his hair, fingers entangling to bring them impossibily closer. _Neither do I_.

Despite the size difference, they fit together so wonderfully as what Jaskier lacked in size he certainly made up for in confidence, taking the lead and leaving biting kisses into Geralt's neck. Hands followed, tracing hot lines down his body and lute calloused hands made their way under the far-too-tight clothes on his body and by _God, he moaned_. An obscure little thing that drew teasing giggles out of Jaskier. A mere second before he was furiously crushed in a kiss once more, partly to shut him up as Geralt's face _burned_.

Tugging away the restricting fabrics, Jaskier admired the body he had seen many times. Although perhaps this time, it was in a new light. Muscles, scars, thick flesh warm and coated in a goregous light. "I don't want to do anything you might regret." Jaskier practically whispered, hands greedy and wanting, lips teasing over sweaty flesh. 

"I will regret this if I _don't_." Geralt assured and hungrily ripped the positively sultry outfit from the bard, who admittedly looked much better naked. Gentle lines of muscle on his arms, slim chest and the slight curve of a soft stomach. A sight that would burn in the back of his retinas for years. It was Geralt who fell to his knees, almost pure instinct and it was likely the patrons in the tavern heard the sweet moans that followed, messy and loud. Jaskier was no less vocal in sex than he was in life and when they were finished, sweaty, spent and flung lazily over the bed, the room next door banged furiously on the thin wall.

Heaving breaths, Jaskier raised an eyebrow mischievously. "You look so beautiful when you come." For a man so eloquent with words, he certainly was vulgar at times. Geralt rolled his eyes and swatted him on the ass, drawing a gasp from his overly sensitive body.

"I'll have to invest in a gag next time." Geralt grunted and ignored the way Jaskier's eyes sparkled.

"Next time?" Jaskier nudged him with a bony elbow and Geralt simply shrugged, tugging a worn sheet around their sweat-soaked bodies as the air began to cool. It wouldn't be so awful to do this again. A soft, heated feeling spread through Geralt's chest; different to the scorched hum of arousal. It had gentle edges and brought out the whisper of a smile on his face. One that was barely a flicker, but the watchful eye of Jaskier caught it nonetheless.

"You've tried men now, Geralt. Sure you don't want to move on to someone else?" Jaskier let out a light chuckle, an attempt at jest but with an underlying question there. Geralt pulled him roughly to lie the bard's head on his chest, despite the heat rising on his ears, and muttered softly. "No. I am happy enough sticking to you."

Jaskier let out a splutter of surprised laughter, flustered and attempting to tease- all of which fell flat and he gave in and lay there in peace.

 _More than happy enough_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!! leave your thoughts or ideas or prompts or concrit in the comments!

**Author's Note:**

> tell me what you think! any concrit or ideas prompts etc!
> 
> edit: after reading the comments i gotta do a second chapter!!


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